


Maplekeene in Quarantine

by awfuldaycupcake, bringbackjasper (awfuldaycupcake)



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), The Adventure Zone: Graduation
Genre: Changeling Fitzroy, Drinking, In a way, M/M, Marijuana, Quarantine, Recreational Drug Use, Self Isolation, Slow Burn, Weed, do people still call it pot?, hell if i'm homebound my boys are gonna be too!, pot, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awfuldaycupcake/pseuds/awfuldaycupcake, https://archiveofourown.org/users/awfuldaycupcake/pseuds/bringbackjasper
Summary: The Firbolg was starting hibernation on perhaps the worst possible day. That said, a strange blight has been infecting Nua, and until it's over, Fitzroy had to put up with just him and Argo, alone in a dorm.Surely this won't be a problem. Right?
Relationships: Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 58
Kudos: 175





	1. Argo in the Bathtub

It was their first Winter, here at Hieronymous Wiggenstaff’s school of Heroism and Villany, and to be honest, Argo wasn’t really sure what he expected.

At sea, winter just entailed shorter days and slightly frigid air. Maybe those days he’d spend time below deck, snug in his hammock with some whiskey and lime to keep him warm. It wasn’t ever really a problem, and seeing as he was pretty used to going anywhere he wanted in the world (quite literally, after his mother stopped deciding, near the end. He swore to the Gods he’d never get scurvy, not after what he’d seen.) But basically, he kind of expected winter to be kind of like spring break-- a free week where they could do what they wanted, maybe earn a pretty penny between semesters, and campus would kind of thin out as students went home, went out, and explored.

Argo wasn’t really sure what he expected. But he didn’t expect this.

He didn’t really know much about Firbolgs, so maybe it was his fault for not researching it or digging into it further. But, sure enough, on the 21st of December, the Firbolg was unconscious.

Not the regular kind of unconscious. He was laying on Argo’s bed, as well, which was odd. If he’d wanted a bed he probably could have asked one of the Wiggenstaffs, or… something. His side of the room was made almost entirely of leaves and rocks, and given that that was usually his preference, this was… weird.

Not even tapping him on the back, rocking him, or speaking to him seemed to do the trick. It was all kind of weird. They’d had a conversation just that morning, like everything was normal. Well, not too normal. 

The three of them had been sitting over breakfast, Fitzroy with his crepes and the Firbolg with an omelet of sorts, when the Firbolg brought up that he’d been finding bodies of animals littered outside the edge of The Unknown Forest. Something about a strange white patching on their fur, covering their little heads. Fitzroy had changed the topic to something about Buckminster and Rainer, and that was that.

In a moment of paranoia, Argo pulled up Bud’s hair, making sure there were no white markings. Nope. He was breathing fine, but just low and sedated. He was usually such a light sleeper...

Argo messaged Fitzroy on the notebook of farspeech, a small note in his scrawly handwriting.  _ Hey, something’s up w/ Firby _ .

Fitzroy, who definitely was in class, responded almost instantly.  _ He is probably hibernating. It is that time of year, after all. Send him my wishes xo - Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in Absentia of the Realm of Goodcastle _

Hibernating? He looked over at the Firbolg. Do they hibernate? Argo had only really heard of bears doing that. This whole thing was kind of weird. He looked once more over Fitzroy’s note, his delicate cursive very clearly coming from a feather quill. Argo sighed at the pretentiousness of it all.  _ You don’t have to sign your name _ . He didn’t get a reply for that one.

So, Argo took out his books and did his work on the floor of Fitz’s room. He was going to use his space, but like. Occupied. And Firby’s side of the room was all dirty, and Fitzroy was always so clean, and he had so much room…

That’s where Fitzroy found him, about half an hour later, half asleep with note cards scattered across the floor and  _ Blame Taking 101  _ open on his lap.

“Argo?” He asked, and Argo jolted up, turning around to see him. 

The thing with Fitz is that his hair was never the same, day to day. The curls made their own pattern, and that was always the first thing Argo noticed upon seeing him. Today they were hanging over his gold-rimmed glasses, almost in his eyes. Argo always wore his hair up for a reason, hair in the eyes was a major pain in the ass.

“Argo. Hey, snap out of it,” Fitzroy asked, waving a hand in front of his face. 

“Hey, uh, sorry, I--” Argo started, but a loud and nasally voice drew both of their attentions.

“Attention students! It’s me, Gary!” Argo winced at the way he sounded. Fitzroy winced as well, but for a slightly different reason. He hated that the Gary was  _ always _ there, and could always hear anything. It was intrusive, to say the least. And he could interrupt any conversation he felt like, which was what seemed to be happening as they spoke.

“There’s been several reports of a strange white fungus comin’ outta the canyon lately. It’s uh, it’s killin’ a lot of animals, and word on the streets is it’s hit Last Hope. I’m pretty sure uh, some folks there have been having issues with it, and uh. The hospital’s a bit overrun, so we’re giving them a Wiggenstaff’s Welcome.” Argo looked over at Fitzroy. His look of near disgust was pretty apparent. 

“There’s some patients in the nurse’s office, and until everything is cleaned up, we’re asking all students to stay in their dorms until further notice. If there’s anything you need, ask me, your Gary! It shouldn’t be too long, don’t worry about it. Just uh, know we’re on it. No need to worry. Gary out.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Fitzroy said, walking over to the window. Argo followed him with his eyes, cogs in his brain turning.

So. They weren’t allowed out, huh.

“Well, they said it wouldn’t be long, right? And it’s not like we were gonna have classes anymore, it bein’ break and all,” Argo said. Fitzroy shot him a look.

It wasn’t like he had intended to go home, really. His parents weren’t the uh, Candlenights type. They’d usually be away on vacation anyway, and Fitzroy would have the house to himself again. So like. Just another day.

But that said, he didn’t like the opportunity being taken from him either. The dorm felt more like a prison than it had in a while.

“I’ve got some whiskey and fantasy Uno. And besides, maybe it’ll just be a day or so,” Argo said with a smile. He began packing up his notecards, sliding them into pages in his textbook. “And didn’t you bring chess?”

“I’m not playing chess with  _ you _ ,” Fitzroy muttered, still looking out the window. Argo’s face curled up at his tone.

“Alright, suit yourself,” he said. He almost sounded dejected, but Fitzroy was too distracted to analyze that right now. He wondered how long this was going to last.

The first full day was quiet. Argo stayed in his and the Firbolg’s room during the day, his sketchbook pulled out on his lap. He liked crafting, truth be told. It wasn’t something he could do often, especially out at sea. Materials were hard to come by, and whatever paper or ink they found was a bit of a scarcity. It was nice to be able to hold a paper notebook and just draw whatever he wanted. He wasn’t all that good at it, but that’s not what really brought him to create. It was more out of something to do with his busy hands.

Fitzroy spent the day in his room, mostly looking out the window.

There weren’t any curtains. Argo had turned them into silly outfits for himself and the Firbolg, and while at the time he’d found it annoying, it was grating even more right about now. The light bathed everything in a harsh golden glow, reminding him he wasn’t even able to go outside. And, being on the sword coast, it wasn’t like it was even chilly or winter-y at all. It was just a sticky kind of unpleasant warmness.

As soon as the sun set, Fitzroy found himself fighting off a trance. The sheer amount of boredom from just one single day was enough to make him want to go to sleep around 7:30. He stretched, checking his pocketwatch with a sigh. Well. What else was there to do?

He woke up around midnight with the urge to go to the restroom. He stretched his arms, walking through the other boys’ rooms, opening the door to their private en suite. 

Argo was asleep in the bathtub.

“Wh--” Fitzroy rubbed at his eyes, making sure he wasn’t dreaming. Sure enough, Argo was lying there, fully clothed and half-submerged in water. 

Fitzroy crouched down next to the bathtub, staring at him in confusion. Was he drowning? Did the man finally snap? Was this where he was going every night? Surely that last one couldn’t be it. Fitzroy trusted his intuition, and if it told him that the genasi was sneaking off to do something of the ‘sketchy’ variety, he most likely was. Fitzroy offered a slight kick to the bathtub.

“H-w--” Argo stuttered, jolting up. “Fitzroy?”

“Yes, believe it or not, it is your roommate, in your shared bathroom. Could you do me a favor and leave _now_?”

Argo rubbed his eyes. He’d planned on sleeping in his bed, as per usual, but with the Firbolg that proved not to be an option. The man was over 7 feet-- trying to move him wasn’t exactly in Argo’s abilities at the moment. And to take his leaf bed felt both like an intrusion of privacy and like the most uncomfortable place to be at the moment. If he hadn’t used the curtains to make outfits, maybe he could’ve made a hammock or something, but… well. He figured that water was about the closest he could come to feeling at home, and if he sunk too low he could always use his gills anyway.

Fitzroy was standing over him with a look of disgust, though, and that simply wouldn’t do.

Argo reached over, pulling the shower curtain closed. “Nope,” he muttered, sinking lower into the water. He faintly heard Fitzroy scoff. 

“I need to take a leak, and frankly I’m not comfortable with you being here for that.”

“Learn to be,” Argo muttered, his eyes sliding shut. Fitzroy grumbled something about just holding it and left the room.

Argo fell into a restless sleep then, the angle of his neck against the bathtub intensely uncomfortable.

But if that was his options, that was his options.

Fitzroy sat on his king sized bed, eyes clouded over mid trance. 

At that point, so early on, they didn’t know the months that awaited them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using a lot of inspo from the current 16 works in this tag lol, so if u see a reference to ur work it is totally on purpose! I love the idea that they all kind of lend to each other in that the characters and story all build this beautiful one world of like, fanfic awesomeness. It's like a canon all of it's own, lol. I hope you liked it, and the next chapter will probably be up soon, no promises. Thanks for reading!  
> \- M


	2. Not Even "More Than," Just "Survive"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes, as it always does. Has it always been this slow?

Argo awoke with a start for the second time that night, the bathtub being kicked with a familiar feeling. He sat up slowly, realizing that he must’ve knocked the drain in his sleep. The bathtub was now empty, but his clothes weren’t making their way towards dry quite yet. Fitzroy had yanked back the shower curtain, and was staring down at him expectantly.

“Well. It’s morning. Can I please go to the bathroom now?”

Argo yawned, moving a hand to the back of his neck.  _ Damn, _ that smarts.

“I wasn’t stopping you in the first place,” Argo said, but moved to get up anyway. Fitzroy was a pain in the ass, but at least he’d let Argo sleep through the night. That’s more than he’d expected outta him.

He’d made his way back into his and the Firbolg’s room, looking around insistently for something to do. He’d finished his drawing last night-- a sketch of a ship, yet around it he drew trees and flowers, almost like it was sailing on land. Like Peter Pan’s sky ship, but through the forest instead. 

He didn’t feel like drawing, but he was running out of ideas. He leafed through his books, looking for something he hadn’t read. 

Argo had been keeping up on his readings on Fitzroy for Jackal, but the idea of reading about him while he was here was… odd. It kind of made it clearer how wrong this whole thing was. That said, he was doing this for his ma. He was doing the Unbroken Chain proud, and if they needed this information, it was probably for a good reason. His ma wouldn’t have done anything without that guarantee. So, Argo would read.

He sat in the corner, back pressed against his bed in front of a sleeping Firbolg with a book titled  _ Barbarians for Dummies _ in his hands. It wasn’t a particularly interesting read, but he’d do it.

Fitzroy wasn’t having the most interesting day, either, to be fair. He’d been standing at the same spot in his room, just kind of glancing out the window. Everything was so intensely  _ drab _ indoors, and the idea of going outside was so enticing. He glanced over at his notebook of farspeech, thinking for a moment of writing to Rainer, before deciding against it. He didn’t want to bother her.

Days started passing like that. Fitzroy standing stationary, staring out the window, and Argo with his head in a book. They’d spend their nights separate, Argo squeezed into the bath and Fitzroy, alone. It became a pattern. While in reality, about four days had passed, it felt like an eternity to the both of them. The only breaks were knocks at the door for food, which Fitzroy would rush to pick up his plate and return to his room. 

Argo would only see him for a second.

“Hey, Gary,” Argo said. He was tossing a ball of yarn against the wall on the side of the Firbolg’s room, the fourth day. He’d been trying to learn to knit, but it wasn’t going too well. Gary perked up, his face leaving its stone state.

“Argo Keene! How can I, your Gary, help you?” Argo went to speak, but his voice got caught in his throat. He hadn’t spoken aloud in a couple of days, and his voice was gruff from disuse. Gruffer than usual, at least.

“How much longer are we gonna be in here?”

“Well,” Gary said. He paused a moment, almost as if he was thinking. Argo was pretty sure he was consulting the other Garys, somewhere out there. He wondered if all the other students were thinking about this too. To be honest, he really hadn’t had that thought until just now.

“Ya see, Argo, we’re not really sure. It seems like the white patches are spreading to the nurse’s staff, too, and if anything precaution is even more necessary than before. So it’s best not to leave your rooms. You don’t want to put yourself or others at risk.”

“Yeah,” Argo said, tossing the yarn ball back against the wall. It fell harmlessly at his feet. He heaved a sigh. “I’m just gettin’ concerned, that’s all.” 

Gary nodded, and his face returned to stone. Argo gave a nod back, standing up. His back cracked as he stood. Huh. The bathtub might be giving him a harder time than he’d thought.

“Fitzroy,” he called out to the air. No answer.

Argo made his way to Fitz’s room to see him still standing there, right about the same spot, just… looking. “Gary says we’re gonna be in here for a while. More people are gettin’ sick.”

Still, no response. 

“I think we should play a game, or do something together. I miss spendin’ time with ya.”

“Spending time with me?” Fitzroy said. He didn’t turn his head to face Argo, still staring at one point out of the window solidly. “That’s a first.”

“I’m-- sorry?” Argo said. He didn’t really know what that meant.

Fitzroy turned around, finally, looking at Argo with distaste and some sort of bitterness that almost made him take a step back. “You okay there, Fitz?”

“You never spent  _ time _ with me,” Fitzroy said. He’d been standing there, thinking, for the past god knows how long. “You leave in the middle of the night, you would barely ever eat with me and the Firbolg, you are such a skilled liar that I don’t even think I can trust you?” He stuttered out, looking over him. “Honestly? Honestly, I just wish you were the Firbolg. I wish you were hibernating instead. Maybe  _ then _ he and I could hold an actual conversation.”

Argo took a second to really soak that in. Huh. So  _ that’s  _ what Fitzroy thought of him, then.

“Listen,” Argo said. “I don’t have to take this from ‘ye. If you want to sulk in misery,  _ sulk _ . See if I care. I just wanted to help ya.” He turned, rolling his eyes the second Fitzroy was out of eyeshot. He wanted to check in on the lad, not be reprimanded for  _ whatever  _ that was. Misplaced anger, frustration, what have you. 

Fitzroy scoffed as Argo shut the door behind him. To have his claims brushed off, just like that, was so  _ annoying.  _ Argo truly had no decency for a proper fight, and it seemed like maybe his blame taking classes  _ weren’t  _ paying off after all. It was all just so-- so-- annoying!

_ Eff this _ , Fitzroy thought, moving to sit on his bed once more. If nothing else, he could always sleep.

He slipped into a fitful trance, his dreams lucid and filled with sights of white-faced animals, in Rainer’s style of a mockery of death. They were all dancing. And they were coming closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter but I figured I'd rather end it naturally than try and force more words in just because. Next chapter up soon :)  
> \- M


	3. Fitz Set a Fire

The next morning, Fitzroy was awakened by a sharp knock on the door. Ah, yes. Food time. Y’know, when he said he wanted room service, this was not exactly the circumstances he meant.

He stood up, stretching, grabbing his (fake) gold-rimmed glasses from the nightstand. He made his way through the second room, on his way to the door, when he spotted Argo.

Argo had already taken his own plate, a custom order of lime and bread, and also had taken the Firbolg’s plate. They’d been arriving daily, as if the staff didn’t actually know when Firbolgs’ hibernated. Fitz assumed Argo had been leaving them in the hallway until the service people would come and take them, but apparently, Argo had other plans. 

He’d taken the Firbolg’s plate filled with eggs and leaves and was trying to shove it into the Firbolg’s mouth as he slept. The strange sight was enough to make Fitzroy stop in his tracks, staring at the two of them.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Argo muttered, shoving another forkfull of egg into Firby’s mouth. Fitzroy’s eyebrows rose involuntarily.

“What, exactly, are you doing, Argo?”

“What’s it to you?” Argo asked. Ah. So he was still grumpy, then. 

“Well, that is my friend you’re attempting to suffocate at the moment,” Fitzroy said. He sat down next to Argo, just kind of watching the situation unfold. Argo gave him a look.

“I see. So he’s ‘yer friend, but I’m not, eh?”

“Argo, we both know it’s not that,” Fitzroy said. His eyes were still on the Firbolg, watching him snore lazily. At least one of them could be relaxed right now. 

“Do we? Because yesterday you made it pretty clear you don’t want anything to do with me,” Argo muttered, looking over at the plate of eggs. Fitzroy sighed.

“Look. I am, perhaps… maybe, in the slightest bit…  _ sorry. _ But I still, of course, had every right to be frustrated,” Fitzroy said. He shuffled where he was sitting. “You’re not telling us something, Argo, and I aim to find out what it is.”

“Just. Ya gotta trust me, Fitz, I can’t tell y--”

“Sir Fitzroy,” Fitz interrupted. This seemed to catch Argo off guard.

“I, uh. Sure. Sir Fitzroy. Whatever,” Argo said. 

There was a heavy pause, and Argo was sinking into it. He wanted to tell Fitzroy of the goings-on, of the Unbroken Chain. Of course he did. Even to have anyone to come home to talk about these things would be just  _ wonderful.  _ But that would jeopardize his mission. That would put him on the spot, would allow Fitz to realize that maybe he wasn’t exactly who he said he was.

“You… He doesn’t need to eat, you know,” Fitzroy said, looking over at the plate of eggs. Argo put the fork down with a sigh.

“You couldn’t have told me that like, a week ago?”

“Wait, you’ve been doing this every day?” Fitzroy asked, a stunned look falling over his face. “Are you trying to kill him?”

“Listen, it’s not like I have a lot of experience with Firbolgs,” Argo said. He rolled his eyes with a huff. 

“Yeah, well. He told me about it, before all of this, so I guess that’d do it,” Fitzroy said. It was Argo’s turn to stare at  _ him,  _ incredulous.

“He talks to you about this stuff?”

“Of course he does. We’re friends,” Fitzroy said.

“I’m starting to think yer bein’ an asshole on purpose,” Argo said. He finally stood up, putting about as much space between him and Fitzroy as the room would allow. Which was to say, a little shy of 13 feet. Fitzroy rolled his eyes.

“We’ve just had more opportunities to talk, with you  _ gone _ all the time. Maybe if you stopped and stuck around for a while, you’d--”

“That’s what I’m doing right now, isn’t it?” Argo said.

“Oh, okay, no, this is only ‘cause you have to,” Fitzroy said. “If you had the chance, we both know you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“We both k-- Fitz, what, like you’d be here if you had the choice? You’d go back to yer haughty little Knight school in a second. It’s just about all you ever talk about!” 

“At least  _ I _ talk to  _ you, _ huh?” Fitzroy said. He’d since stood up from his seated position, now facing Argo with distaste.

“Every time we talk it leads to bickering and shouting! Is this what you want?” Argo gestured between the two of them, eyebrows knitted into a fine line. “Is this what yer aimin’ for?”

Fitzroy groaned, picking up his own plate from its spot on the floor. “I’m going to eat my breakfast in peace, if you don’t mind. When you’re done being a degenerate, maybe then we can converse.”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead and talk like a dictionary, that’ll really show me,” Argo said sarcastically. Fitzroy walked into his bedroom with such a haughty air it made Argo want to punch him in the face.

The rest of that day came and went uneventfully. Argo kept running that conversation over in his mind, wondering if there was some way he could’ve gotten a better burn in, if there was some way he could’ve been more honest. He wasn’t sure if he wanted an outcome where he made Fitzroy even more mad at him or if he wanted one where he just let himself be a doormat, compliant until Fitzroy got what he wanted out of the conversation. He wasn’t sure which would be better, but he did know for sure that this inbetween state was even worse.

Fitzroy’s sweet crepe didn’t taste very good that morning. He hoped the next one would be a little better.

That night, once the sun had gone down, Argo had stuffed himself into the bathtub once again. It was getting less and less toleratable with each passing night. He was thinking of giving up and of using the Firbolg’s “bed” pretty soon, but until that day came, he’d keep sleeping in the tub.

He started letting the hot water run just as he heard a loud smash from the adjacent room. Argo turned the water off slowly, curiosity catching up to him.

He entered Fitzroy’s bedroom with caution and intrigue.

Fitz was standing at the foot of his bed, holding his wand as if it was a weapon. He was facing the window again, back to Argo, and his breathing was noticeably heavier than before. Argo took a step closer to him, using his stealth without fully registering it. He put a gentle hand on Fitzroy's shoulder, and Fitzroy turned around.

For whatever reason, the second the wand touched his skin Argo was flown backwards. 

It was the strangest thing that happened, then. It’s like he wasn’t in the room, but instead out on the ocean, his mom at his side. And Mariah…

Argo’s eyes shone with fear as the room reappeared around him. Fitzroy was standing over him in shock, his wand still outstretched. He went to drop it, but it kept reappearing in his hand. 

His eyes were filled with a certain fury Argo had seen before. Fitzroy had just entered into a rage. The effects of that could be… anything.

“Argo, I’m sorry, I--” he stuttered out, trying once again to drop the wand. It stuck to his hand like a fly on flypaper.

“Just breathe, Fitz,” Argo stuttered out. Huh. That was psychic damage, wasn’t it? Argo hadn’t been exposed to that one in a while, but even then he could recognize it from a mile away. His back hurt, but he wasn’t sure if that was soreness from the tub or if Fitzroy did him some actual, physical damage with it. “Breathe and it’ll be over.”

“I’m just so--  _ ugh,” _ Fitzroy said, the anger boiling over. “I’m so sick of being here! I’m so sick of being like-- like a  _ caged tiger _ just pacing all day with nothing to do! I need air, I need time, I need--” 

“What you need is to breathe,” Argo said, offering him a small smile. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll be out of here soon.” Fitzroy sank to the floor, his hands on the back of his neck. The wand never left his right hand, and he looked at it with frustration.

“I can’t even control myself anymore, Argo,” he said, just under his breath. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Argo moved closer, raising an eyebrow as if to ask  _ is this alright?  _ Fitzroy nodded, and Argo put his arm around him, holding him to his chest. 

“Just breathe, buddy. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Will it though?” Fitzroy muttered, and Argo just pulled him closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, projecting in my fanfiction?
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely comments btw! I love reading through them, they absolutely make my day. And the spell Fitzroy cast at the end here is a 7 on the wild surge table for barbarians, which pretty much makes all physical damage psychic and allows the weapon to kind of Thor back to you? Or like Percy Jackson and the pen? Anyway. I hope yall like this! I'm super excited for the new TAZ tomorrow, but it might make me do some editing, lol. New chapter soon!  
> \- M


	4. Do You Wanna Hang?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Argo has a game in mind to kill some boredom.

They both awoke the next morning there, curled up against the foot of the bed. Fitzroy snapped out of his trance at the familiar morning knock at the door. His surroundings came to him all at once-- morning light seeping through the window, a different angle than he was used to. A warm presence was wrapped around his shoulders, and that was enough for him to jerk out of position.

As he did so, Argo blinked awake, smiling sleepily up at Fitzroy. “‘m. Five more minutes?”

“What are you talking about?” Fitzroy said, eyeing him over. Argo yawned, scratching the back of his neck.

“What time is it?”

“Morningtime? Why would I know that,” Fitzroy said, standing unceremoniously and making his way to the door. Argo muttered something incomprehensible and moved to curl up at the floor of the bed.

“You can use the bed, Argo,” Fitz said, looking at him curiously. “You aren’t a cat. Be civilized.”

“Mmm,” Argo said in response, standing only for a moment before flopping down on the bed. “This is comfy.”

“Yes, well. Only the best for h-- um. Only the best for  _ villains,  _ I suppose,” Fitzroy said. He made his way to the front door, picking his own crepe off the tray on the floor. He paused for a second, and then opted to pick up Argo’s plate for him too. He might as well, while he was out here. He was just being convenient, that’s all. Don’t look too far into it.

If there was one thing Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt prided himself on-- well, there were a lot of things he prided himself on-- but one of them would be that he wasn’t  _ soft.  _ Fitzroy was never one to see a small child or a cute animal (Snippers being, of course, not an animal and therefore a perfectly valid exception) and breaking into a mess of coos and petty utterances. No, Fitzroy wasn’t some secret softie in any way. But seeing Argo Keene, known rogue and sneakery expert, curled into a sleeping ball with a small smile on his face? It was enough to take Fitzroy off balance, that’s all. It was  _ offputting _ and surely not, in any way,  _ cute. _

His crepes were better this morning. His compliments to the chef.

Fitzroy was sitting crosslegged on his bed, Argo kind of curled up at the base, with a book in hand. It was a strategy book, one he’d gotten at Clyde Nite’s. Little details in how to present more knightly. Mostly it was ways to insert  _ superfluous  _ words in conversations to sound  _ erudite  _ and  _ verbose.  _ It was something Fitz really took a liking to.

Argo stirred, eyes cracking open about an hour after breakfast. He looked at Fitzroy in confusion, then began staring around the room.

“Wh-- How did I find m’ way here?”

Fitzroy put his book down. “Well. You spent your life on the sea, before hearing your own desire, or siren song, if you will, to become a sidekick.”

“No, I meant on ‘yer bed, Fitzroy,” Argo said, running a hand through his hair. It must have come untied overnight. When it was up, you could never really notice just how much it looked like water.

“What are the physics on that, by the way?”

“The. Uh. Your bed?”

“No, no, y-- your hair. How does it, you know, stay together?” Fitzroy asked, leaning in to get a closer look. Argo ran a hand through it absentmindedly.

“Uh. Cohesion, I guess? I never really thought to question it. It’s just kinda me hair, y’know? You don’t really think about it that much.”

“Can I--” Fitzroy asked, gesturing to his hair. Argo shrugged.

“Knock yerself out.”

Fitzroy ran a hand through his hair, jerking it back almost immediately. It was like putting his hand into a pond in its stagnation, mixed with the pressure of a nice shower. It didn’t make sense.

“This shouldn’t be physically possible,” Fitzroy mumbled, putting his fingers back through Argo’s hair. Argo stiffened slightly at the touch. This was  _ not _ something he was used to. It wasn’t awful, per se, but just a new experience. 

“So, uhh. Y’ got any plans for today?” Argo said. He was pressed for something to say, anything to get Fitzroy talking again and not this strange, loaded silence. Fitzroy perked up at the question.

“Plans? Please, Argo, I’m not able to go anywhere,” Fitzroy said. “I’ll likely just stare out the window again once you leave.”

“Ah, see, but that sounds borin’ as all fuck. Come on, Fitz! We’re trapped in here, for sure, but at least we’re not alone,” Argo said. Fitzroy looked down at him through the frames of his glasses. 

“Okay Argo,” he said, setting his book down, “I’ll bite. What do you have in mind?”

A devilish smile came over Argo’s face. “Oh, yer’ gonna love this.”

When Argo returned about five minutes later with a box of Fantasy Jenga, Fitzroy was, admittedly, a little disappointed. 

“ _ Jenga? _ ” He asked, looking over at Argo. “Argo. Come on.”

“Ah, but ya see, it’s no ordinary Jenga. Give me a little more credit than that.” Argo sat down on the hardwood floor, opening the box with a smile. He looked up expectantly. “Well? Come join me.”

“I don’t, uh. Really think this constitutes as entertainment, there, Argo,” Fitzroy said as he stood up from the bed. He sat across from Argo hesitantly.

“Oh-- I almost forgot. Here, you set these up, I’ll be right back,” Argo said. He stood up suddenly, disappearing into his and the Firbolg’s room.

Fitzroy sighed. This one was on him, really. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

As he opened the box for the Jenga game, he noticed something strange. Each wodden piece had something written on one of the sides. Well, it was more like a pictogram of some sorts. Fitzroy took off his fake glasses for a moment, trying to get a closer look. It had some design on it, maybe a number? Was it a symbol? It was hard to tell.

Argo came back in then, a couple of strange bottles with him. He grinned over at Fitzroy, resuming his position across from him. Fitzroy quickly put his glasses back on.

“Alright. Hear me out. I got these about a month ago from the potions room.” He gestured to the bottles behing him, his smile turning almost dastardly. “I mostly stole them to see if I  _ could _ , and apparently it worked. Ya see, we used to play this game out at sea where we’d play normal games, but change them up just enough to be drinkin’ games. Drunk Fantasy Jenga was always me favorite. You play like normal; ya take a piece out and move it to the top, trying not to knock the tower down.” Argo took the pieces out of the box, building the tower as he explained. “If you draw a piece with instructions on it, you have to do what they say, no questions asked. Me n’ my mates had gotten into some pretty crazy evenin’s with this bad boy.”

“Heh, ah yes, I too had… many a wild night with my. Mates.” Fitzroy never really had friends, per se, more just people who kept him around for the sake of status or in hopes he’d buy them something or something like that. If they knew how distant he was from the traditional Maplecourt tree, maybe they wouldn’t even have done that.

“You wanna go first?” Argo asked, gesturing to the tower. Fitzroy nodded slowly. He was, after all, president of the Chess club at Clyde Nite’s. How different could this be?

Fitzroy drew a wooden block from the middle, pulling it out slowly. There, on the side in a scawly print handwriting, were the words “Number Three.”

“Ah. So what that one means,” Argo said, grabbing one of the bottles, “is that you have to take a shot from potion number three. I didn’t really uh, happen to catch what these did, so this’ll be a fun unexpected part of the game, yeah?”

“Argo, if there’s nightlock in one of those, I’ll have you know I’m deathly allergic,” Fitzroy said, looking over the bottle Argo was holding. It was a plum purple, and highly viscous. 

“Nightlock is poision, everyone’s deathly allergic to it. Come on, Fitz, give it a whirl.” Fitz’s face scrunched up, but he took the bottle from Argo nonetheless.

He took a faint sniff of it before he tried it. It smelled like elderberries (alright, so not nightlock) and something else Fitzroy couldn’t quite put a hand on. 

~~ “Make a constitution roll for me, Griffin. ~~

~~ “Uh oh. That’s a two.” ~~

He took a swig of the liquid, and it was like something electric was running through his veins. “I’ve never had friends before this school.”

“Huh?” Argo said, looking up at him. 

“I’m not-- I didn’t try to say that, I-- Before you and the Firbolg, I just assumed everyone only liked me because of my royal status.” Fitzroy put a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. 

“I think number three’s a truth serum, eh?” Argo said with a knowing smirk. Fitzroy scrunched up his face in response. He didn’t want to risk saying anything else dreadfully embarrassing. Gods, he was only one round in!

Argo drew a block from the pile, looking at it with a grin. “Ha! I got a pass.”

“I very much wish I had gotten a pass,” Fitzroy said, completely deadpan. Argo laughed.

“Your turn.”

Fitzroy took a deep breath, taking another piece from the tower. “It says Number Five.”

“Lucky for you, number five,” Argo said, pulling out a large bottle of amber liquid with a smile, “is one I finessed from the tavern.”

“I disapprove of your thievery, Argo, but I am very glad you have secured this tavern beverage,” Fitzroy said. He made a face at the words coming out of his own mouth. He hadn’t intended on saying  _ any _ of that, thank you very much. He still had some dignity.

Argo poured a small swig of the whiskey into a glass he produced from-- somewhere, and handed it to Fitzroy with a smile. “Bottoms up, my fancy friend!”

Fitzroy downed it with a surprising enthusiasim. “That was not nearly as awful as the potion was.”

“I should sure hope not,” Argo said. He pulled another jenga block from the tower. “Number one.”

Potion number one was a clear bottle with some swirling pink liquid inside. Argo eyed it wearily. He wasn’t a coward, don’t get him wrong. It’s just, who exactly made these potions? It was one thing to get Fitzroy to do it, yeah, but for him to drink it seemed a little less funny.

“I do wish you’d hurry up, Argo,” Fitzroy said, catching him rather off guard. Argo chuckled, pouring himself a shot of the liquid. He swirled it around in his mouth. It was sweet, kind of like cherries. A bit like cough syrup.

Whatever it was, it had no effect on Argo.

“Eh. Must be a dud,” he said with a grin.

“Argo, I feel as if I’m gambling my life and frankly, this  _ sucks, _ ” Fitzroy said. Argo laughed. Fitzroy was funnier when he wasn’t lying all the time, Argo noted. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Do ya wanna… just polish off this whiskey?” He asked. Fitzroy smiled at that.

“Halfzies?”

And with that, as far as Fitzroy knew, the majority of the day was gone in an instant.

The two of them had somehow found themselves on the bed, Fitzroy in a laughing fit about something he couldn’t even remember. “And then-- and then he told me it was fake, and I--” he was dissolving into nonsensical giggles. 

Argo smiled warmly. 

There was something about Fitzroy he couldn’t put his finger on. But maybe? He didn’t need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like this! I'm very excited for the new episode today. Stay safe and social distance!  
> \- M


	5. A Guy That I'd Kinda Be Into

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitzroy, much to Argo's dismay, is a serial lightweight.

“When me and m’ crewmates would get this drunk, we’d always whip out 20 questions. If yer gonna be drunk, you might as well have a good time with it,” Argo said. Fitzroy had since sat up on the bed, smiling drunkenly over at Argo. He’d long since taken his fake glasses off, and was appreciating the world without the dingy, dirtiness that the spectacles brought.

“You go first,” Fitzroy said, a grin on his face. Argo got the sensation that Fitzroy was a bit of a lightweight, and it was kind of adorable.

“Okay, okay. Um, hm. What was… your favorite class at Knight school?”

“What a lame and boring question, Argo,” Fitzroy said. When mixed with the alcohol, the truth serum seemed to be even longer lasting than usual. “It was shieldwork. I’m always on the defense anyway, so it seemed logical that that was what I’d excel at. I really should’ve passed out of human shield training, but now that I’m a  _ villain _ I suppose it doesn't matter, does it?”

“Alright, next question,” Argo said. Fitzroy swiped him gently on the arm.

“Hey! It’s my turn! I wanted to ask you, um,” there was a pause, and Fitzroy clicked his tongue. “Where do you go at night, Argo?”

“Can’t answer that,” Argo said with a shake of his head. Fitzroy groaned comically. “I mean it! Some people would be very mad at me if they found out I told anyone, especially you, and as much as I love spendin’ time with ya here, Fitz, I can’t say.”

“Fiiiine. Then answer me this: why did you just say  _ especially _ me? Like, why do they care if  _ especially Fitzroy _ were to find out?” Argo chuckled.

“I can’t tell y’ that, either, I’m afraid. You’ve got a knack for askin' the hard questions, huh?”

“You’re no fun, Argo,” Fitzroy said. He flopped backwards on the bed, his head hitting the pillow with a soft  _ flump _ .

“Alright, fine. Another question for Sir Fitzroy. From everythin’ you’ve said, you seem to really hate the idea that you’re a villain. Why’d you take the offer?” 

Argo had realized about halfway through this conversation that he’d found a perfect opportunity to find out more about Fitzroy. To find out why he acted like he acted, to try and get anything he could for Jackal and the Chain.

“They offered me a private bathroom.”

Argo stared at him disbelievingly. “Really. That’s what made you possibly give up your dream, Fitz? A bigger bathroom?”

“Well, that and the possibility that you and the Firbolg would have a smaller room than me. I liked how that felt.” Argo laughed at him again, rolling his eyes. Alright then. So no new information there.

“Anyways, it’s my turn. Argo, why on Earth do you let others use you as nothing but a doormat so frequently?”

“Easy,” Argo responded. This one truly was easy. Outside of the chain, Argo found himself with little to hide. “It goes down easier. I try an’ avoid conflict, being a rogue and all. Most of my strengths lie outside conflict, so if I can say anything to get people off my back, even if it paints me in a not-so-good light, for someone more important? I’ll take it.” Fitzroy nodded slowly. That made sense, in a way. It tracked with the way Argo acted, the way he spoke most of the time.

“You do know you aren’t less important than anyone, right Argo?”

There was something so gentle in Fitzroy’s tone that Argo almost did a double-take.

“Of course I do. Sure,” Argo said. To Fitzroy, it was pretty unconvincing. He frowned. He didn’t want to pry, however, if it would maybe make Argo uncomfortable. “Alright, my turn again,” Argo said. “You’ve told me about your mum, a little. What about your dad? Tell me more abou’ old Jerry.”

Fitzroy stopped, looking over Argo with a suddenly sober expression. “I’ve never told you my father’s name, Argo.”

Shit.

“Sure you have! Loads of times. When you were talkin’ about your mom in the hospital, when you uh, when you… When you talked about heading off to Knight school.”

Fitzroy was taken aback, a little. He knew, he  _ knew, _ he never told anyone about his father. Why would he do that? There wasn’t any glory, any family worth, to what his father did. His mother had taught him that at a young age-- mention only what you have to to get by. Take your mother’s last name and refrain from mentioning your father. To you he is  _ Lord Maplecourt _ and nothing less.

“...Huh,” Fitzroy said. He still didn’t believe this, not for a second. “Okay. Um, he was a wealthy heir to the throne, and to his friends and  _ everyone else _ , he was known as Lord Maplecourt.” Lies, all of it. “He also had a big purse with hot mint gum. Can we go on to the next question?”

Argo made a mental note. He was sure the chain would be thrilled to hear about this. The family tree in the library must’ve been wrong, then. Clearly Fitzroy was more than he’d thought.

“Sure. It’s your turn,” Argo said. Fitzroy looked him over.

He didn’t want Argo to know he was on to him, or that he didn’t trust him at any point. No, that would have to wait for a much more sober Fitzroy to deal with. He better keep it close, play it safe.

“Any lovers in your life, Argo? Any lucky lady?”

Ugh. This was the one thing Argo hated about twenty questions-- it always developed into  _ what girl do you have a crush on?  _ or  _ how many people have you had sex with? _ And to be honest, Argo hated both of those questions for pretty polar reasons. 

“No. Ladies aren’t… Just uh. No, Fitz, not now.” Fitzroy nodded. Ah. So that wasn’t where Argo was sneaking off to, then. If he hadn’t taken a lover, then--

“And what about you, Fitz?” Argo asked. He’d already covered his bases for the Chain, he figured. Now he just wanted to know more about Fitzroy for his own sake. He just wanted to be closer with the guy, sue him. Fitzroy was unique. “Anyone special?”

“Not at the moment,” Fitzroy said with a little smile. 

“Really?” Argo asked. “I always figured you and Rainer--”

“No, Rainer-- Ha! Rainer. No, Rainer’s going after Buckminster, I’m fairly certain. She’s a little too spooky for me, anyways,” Fitzroy said. Besides, he thought to himself. The likelihood of anyone falling for  _ him _ was less than 0%. Negative 0%, if you will. Maybe even negative 1.

“Fair enough,” Argo said. He took the whiskey off Fitzroy’s nightstand, taking a swig. There were only a few sips left. He didn’t put it down.

“Alright, Argo. How come a guy as handsome and socially aware as you can’t get a girlfriend?” Fitzroy said. He wanted to know partially for his own sake, so he could learn from Argo’s ways. But finding out even he, probably what, the most handsomest guy ever (?) couldn’t find a girl? It was so… disappointing.

“I’m a fish,” Argo said, his voice complete deadpan. Fitzroy stared at him for a second, silent. “Listen. People are usually only into me if they have a very specific fetish, and I don’t-- I don’t like feeling objectified,” Argo said. The “ _ anymore _ ” he’d so desperately wanted to say was left on his tongue.

“Um. But surely, if you found a woman who loved you enough--”

“You’re really on the wrong page there,” Argo said. He took another sip of the whiskey. It was higher quality than he was used to, but he didn’t take the time to really savor it.

“Come on, Argo. You’re so secretive. Just tell me  _ something _ ,” Fitzroy said. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to know. How to woo, how to  _ flirt _ without appearing like an absolute moron.

Argo ran a hand through his hair. “Ask me in t’ morning. I can’t have this conversation right now.”

“Understood. And rest assured I  _ will _ ask you,” Fitzroy said, a small smirk on his face. Fitzroy  _ always  _ got what he wanted. 

“I’m sure you will,” Argo muttered. “Here’s my question: Why do you care so much?”

“Well, I mean. Look at you, Argo,” Fitzroy said. “You’re so… just. You’re the perfect boyfriend material.”

Argo smirked at that. “Yeah?”

“You’re agreeable, kind, and you’d never start a fight. You have big arms and caring eyes, and your hair? Your hair is  _ so cool _ , Argo,” Fitzroy said. As if to prove his point, he ran his hand through Argo’s hair, watching in mesmiration as it sunk in like water. “You’re just. You’re really cool.”

Argo felt a flutter in his chest, just for a second. Oh, no. No no no. Not now. Not this, not again.

“Hm. Um, I think I should go to bed, I--”

“Argo, you can’t keep sleeping in the  _ bathtub, _ you moron,” Fitzroy said. Argo stiffened. Fitzroy, seeming to notice, pulled his hand away from Argo’s hair. “Come on. I’ve got a king-sized bed, and we’re pals, yes? Just stay. It’ll be like a sleepover!”

Argo took a deep breath. Could he do this? Could he  _ really _ do this.

But could he really say no?

“Sure, Fitzroy,” Argo said, standing up. “I’m just gonna-- brush m’ teeth.” 

“Smart. I don’t want you smelly in my bed,” Fitzroy mumbled, nestling down on top of the covers. Argo felt a lump in his throat.

It had been a while since he felt butterflies, and it had burned him like nothing else.

As he walked to the bathroom and stared his own reflection down in the mirror, Argonaut Keene decided then and there he would  _ not _ develop feelings for his friend and roommate Fitzroy Maplecourt. 

He brushed his teeth and returned to the bedroom, Fitzroy already out like a light. He’d never seen the half-elf trance this close before. He was staring up at the ceiling, eyes open but a demure, soft look on his face. Argo smiled, crawling under the covers next to him. 

He needed to sleep, now more than ever. Because sometimes, it’s better not to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, 5 chapters in and the story starts going.
> 
> Thank you all again for the lovely comments! They always make me smile so much, and they're a joy to see. I hope everyone is enjoying this and staying safe at home! Fill your life with laughter and love!!  
> \- M


	6. Upgrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Argo's past isn't something he can run from when he can't run anywhere.

Y’know, if Argo could pick one thing in the world, _one thing_ to not dream about. It would have to be Mariah. 

They were always at sea together, back when Argo was a little kid. His ma was the head of the Narwhaler, but there were others there too, of course. The first mate, the gunner, the quartermaster. All real decent fellas. But Mariah?

They found Mariah in a barrel as a baby. He was bruised something awful, and of course, as pirates do, they brought him into their ranks. He grew up among them, aboard their ship, and became one of them.

At some point, his crew and Argo’s ma’s joined together. Argo was what, 15? 16? It was rather lovely, the junction. The other crew’s captain had passed, havin’ caught scurvy and all, and so they were in sore need of some leadership. And mother Keene was the woman for the job.

Argo could’ve sworn everyone was on board with this juncture. There was always a happy attitude aboard the Narwhaler, and everything was smooth sailin’, pardon the pun. And, bein’ the only two young boys upon the sea, Argo and Mariah got to talking.

Mariah Cohen could’ve been the king of the sea. Y’see, he was a changeling-- a species of people descending from doppelgangers with the uncanny ability to shift into a different appearance. Argo wasn’t one to judge, his own father being a genie (and out there somewhere. At this point, Argo didn’t want him to come back.) But Mariah wouldn’t change his appearance too often, usually just his hair to look cool or his eyes to freak people out. He was always good for a laugh, and Argo felt immensely safe around him.

This particular night, when he and Fitzroy first shared the bed, Argo happened to be dreaming of the following event.

It was the two of them, out on the doc. Argo’s mother had tasked him with watching the sails in case anything were to happen. She knew it wouldn’t. It was a crystal clear night, and the water was as still as could be. It’s like the Earth had stopped turnin’, just for a second. Like time had stopped.

And it was just him and Mariah.

Mariah had these ocean blue eyes, y’see, and this gorgeous wave in his dark brown curls. While Argo quite literally resembled the ocean, Mariah did it in different ways. He was an emblem of the sea. And to Argo?

He was astonishing.

Argo first realized his feelings for Mariah might be more than platonic when they were sitting there, that night, feet dangling over the starboard side. It was a clear sky, the stars gazing upon them as they looked over the water. And Mariah had said something about Argo, something so gentle and sincere, and--

And Argo, of course, kissed him. Because of _course_ he did.

And from there, Mariah… He manipulated him. He used Argo as a way to get close to his Ma, trying to take her down at the command of the first mate. He just used him as some sort of bait, some way to rip his family apart. It was betrayal, cut and dry.

It was only a week or two, so maybe it shouldn’t have stuck with Argo the way it did. But it did, and that was the point. The point was--

The point was, it fuckin _hurt._ And there was no way in hell Argo would let some pretty boy with curls ever get close enough to his heart to use it.

Two hours after falling asleep, Argo awoke out of breath in Fitzroy’s bed. Without saying a word, he moved once again to the bathtub, his eyes sliding shut.

It took Fitzroy longer than usual to wake up that morning. When he did, though, the bed was empty.

He remembered very little from that night, but what he did remember was Argo staying. He happened to trance staring at the ceiling, something that rarely happened to him, and was awfully inconvenient. If he was trancing while looking at Argo, while that might be weird, maybe he could see where he went.

Huh. Was he back on his nightly errands? That would be awfully irresponsible of him, if so. There was some sort of plague out there, and frankly, Fitzroy really wasn’t prepared to die.

He walked into Argo and the Firbolg’s room, and sure enough, Argo wasn’t there. Fitz was willing to bet he’d spent the night in the bathtub again, but he wasn’t too sure. There was just one precaution he could take…

“Gary, help?”

The stone gargoyle came to life silently, swiveling his head to look at Fitzroy. “Hey, it’s me, your Gary! Gary the gar--”

“Gary, I need you to be quiet for a moment,” Fitzroy said. Gary’s blank eyes moved back and forth, almost suspiciously. He nodded.

“Did Argo Keene go anywhere last night?”

The Gary squinted at him. “All students are being asked to stay in their rooms at all times, Fitzroy,” Gary said. Fitzroy sighed.

“Yes, yes, I know. That’s-- that’s why I’m asking. I just need to know if he left, that’s all.” Gary nodded, this time slower.

“No. I’m checking my footage, aaaaand. He didn’t.”

“Okay. Thanks, gare-bear.”

“Don’t- j. Just don’t.”

Fitzroy walked to the bathroom, fully expecting to find Argo asleep in the bathtub. But no. This time, the genasi was standing next to the window, looking out with a blank expression. His clothes were still wet, he must have just gotten up.

“Whatcha… whatcha lookin at there, Argo?” Fitzroy asked. Argo didn’t respond.

He was thinking again. 

It was 9AM and he had a glass of whiskey in his hand. Fitzroy looked onward in concern. “Are you-- are you alright, friend Argo?”

“Peachy,” Argo said. His gaze was distant.

“Why did you come in here, in the middle of the night? You know you’re allowed to stay, this is really no place to be sleeping,” Fitzroy said.

Argo took a deep breath through his nose, so loud it was audible. 

“I’ll-- I’ll leave you alone,” Fitzroy said. “Your breakfast is in my room if you’re hungry.” Argo shrugged. Fitzroy left.

Well. This wasn’t any good. Was there something Fitzroy had done wrong, then? Surely there must be. Argo was usually so pleasurable, and they spend one night together and he gets like _this._

Maybe he was creeped out by Fitzroy’s trancing. A lot of non-elves tended to get irritated by that, especially if he was staring. Or maybe he said something stupid whild drunk? He scanned his brain but… nothing in particular was coming up. Oh Gods, did he black something out? He’d only drank once or twice before, and never enough to forget things.

Ugh, he did remember calling Argo handsome a few times, but that was typical drunk Fitzroy talk. He’d-- what else had he said? He was under a truth serum, so it couldn’t be too bad.

That’s when two very distinct and very different thoughts hit him at once:

  1. Argo had known his father’s name.
  2. Argo had good reasoning for not having a girlfriend, and he promised to Fitzroy he’d tell him in the morning.



Hmm. Curious. Y’know, maybe, perhaps Argo was just hungover. He’d never seen Argo hungover, maybe that was it. Or maybe he was just sick of being cooped up in here! Or homesick? Yes, here were a lot of options outside of “Fitzroy ruining things” that he hadn’t even considered!

He made his way to the bathroom once more, this time with Argo’s plate in hand. He’d needed a conversation starter.

“I, uh. I’ve brought you your food, Argo. I figured you wouldn’t want it to get too cold.”

“Thanks,” Argo muttered. He took the plate from Fitzroy, almost zoned out as he bit into the lime like an apple. It was a sight Fitz never truly thought he’d get over.

“So, um,” Fitzroy started. Hm, which would hurt a possibly hungover Argo less? Mentions of a girlfriend or possibly invasive talks about how Argo recognized his father? Huh. Better play it safe. “Not to pry, but like. You said you don’t have a girlfriend for a reason, and you said I could ask you in the morning-?”

Damn, Argo thought. Fitzroy was incredibly, _incredibly_ bad at timing.

“I, uh. I’ve been hurt before, that’s all.”

Fitzroy paused at that. What? How the hell could some girl hurt _Argo_ ? He didn’t seem to be fragile, that’s for sure. “I-- huh. What was her name?”   
“Mariah,” Argo said without missing a beat.

“Mariah,” Fitzroy repeated. The name sounded hollow coming from his mouth. Argo wanted nothing more than to leave these godforsaken three rooms. He was beginning to feel so, so caged.

“Say, did this Mariah happen to be--”

“Fitz?” Argo turned to him. Just the look in his eyes was so-- so _tired_ , so exhausted, that it shut Fitzroy up in a second. “I can’t. I just-- I can’t.”

“Okay,” Fitzroy said. He took a step back, offering a small smile. “Sorry to press past my welcome.”

“You’re, it’s. It’s not your fault,” Argo said. His gaze returned slowly to the window, and he felt an awful tug at his chest. Fitzroy gave him a small smile.

“Yeah, I know. But it isn’t yours either. You know that, right Argo?”

The words echoed what he had said last night; Argo is important, Argo is special. _You know that, right, Argo?_

“Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard one to write, but I hope you like it! Argo is my bb and I never want to hurt him but also hurt comfort?? so quality, so worth it
> 
> Next chapter probably tomorrow. Writing this is getting me through quarantine, lol. I have no idea what I'll do when this is over? Probably a coffeeshop AU. How infrequent is it that I'm into a ship that doesn't have a preexisting coffeeshop AU?
> 
> -M


	7. Rainer Enters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitzroy starts second guessing. Then, he adds a new word to his ever-extending vocabulary.

Fitzroy, knowing his conversation with Argo was most likely done for the day, figured he might as well talk to someone else. He turned to his notebook of farspeech, opening it to the last page. He was sure to address it to Rainer, knowing that the signals wouldn’t get crossed. Notebooks of farspeech were highly technical things, after all.

_ Dearest Rainer, _ he wrote,  _ I hope this message finds you well. Time in isolation can be rather strenuous for all of us, and I hope you are faring well throughout these tumultuous times. Sending my admiration, and letting you know my thoughts are indeed with you.  
_ _ Yours,  
_ _ Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in Absentia of the Realm of Goodcastle _

Rainer responded a moment later, quick to answer.

_ FITZ my GUY. i’m losin my marbles cooped up in here. not even Fantasy Netflix is entertaining anymore _

Fitzroy laughed at the message. Ha, how informal. Truly, Rainer did not understand the formality required of letter-writing.

_ Rainer,  
_ _ I deeply relate. The air is beginning to feel stale, and with only my roommate as my company, I find myself missing you. _

Fitzroy paused a moment. Huh. That… that sounded a little romantic coded, didn’t it? Did-- did he intend that?

He tried to picture himself with Rainer like that. Argo had suggested it last night, hadn’t he? And yes, Rainer was beautiful. She had a mystic air about her, something supernatural that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Fitzroy had never really had a crush before, if he was honest, a little too focused on himself. But, nowadays… he was  _ bored. _ And who knew how long he’d be cooped up in here?

_ uh fitz, hey, i miss you too buddy _

Perhaps she felt something for him, then? Could he pursue this? 

The feeling in his chest wasn’t that which was oft described in his romance novels. It was a little more… hm. A little more cost-analysis, a more technical and pros/cons. Not exactly Fantasy Twilight, then.

_ Rainer,  
_ _ Perhaps, when all of this is over, we could go on a formal Date of sorts, hm? Not quite the food court, but something in town. I saw this cape at Barns and Nobles that I was dying to try on, and I cannot think of a better excuse for an excursion.   
_ _ Yours,   
_ __ Sir F--

In the middle of his signature, he felt a vibration at his side. He put down the notebook, pulling up his stone of farspeech. He was getting a call.

“Fitzroy,” she said. It was clearly Rainer. She had a recognizable voice. 

“Yes?"

“You can’t--” She sighed on the other line. “I, uh. How do I phrase this.” There was a pause. Ah. So clearly, Fitzroy did something wrong. 

“I can-- I can hang up, if you’d like, and we can opt not to discuss this, I’d hate to bring you discomfort, Rainer,” Fitzroy said. He heard her sigh once more.

“Fitz, I’m. I’m a lesbian.”

Fitzroy took a second, quietly listening to the other line.

Now, keep in mind, Fitzroy grew up without much contact from either of his parents. He was usually alone, left to decaying stories of romance dating back to forty, sometimes even fifty years before his own time. He did not know  _ things, _ did not have  _ friends,  _ per se. He just sort of lived his life based on the text, based on what was right and proper and described in books before him.

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in Absentia of the Realm of Goodcastle, did not know what a  _ lesbian _ was.

Argo was in the bathroom still. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, truly, but the thin wooden walls between the three rooms in the dorm were practically paper. The exterior walls, the ones leading to the hallway, were a thick stone, but everything in between was about the easiest thing to listen through. And as the quiet “I’m a lesbian” bounced off the walls, he couldn’t help but listen just a little harder, with a little more intent. 

“I don’t-- I. You’re gonna have to explain to me, uh.  _ That, _ ” Fitzroy said. He hated not knowing things. He did a very good job at making himself look like an idiot, and this was even a step past that.

“You know how Crush and Jimson are married, right?” Rainer said. “They’re both dudes. And I’m, y’know, a girl who… only likes other girls.”

“So I assumed wrong on the date thing,” Fitzroy said. Ah, yes. Rejection he was familiar with, at least. This he could navigate around. “I’ve never, um, given much thought to that. Is it something that develops over time, this-- this  _ lesbian? _ ”

“Oh my god,” Rainer laughed. “Fitzroy, I’m half-convinced you’re from the wrong century.” It was Fitzroy’s turn to sigh. At least she wasn’t judging him too harshly. He hated feeling so stupid.

“I’ve kind of known forever. And like, my uncle’s gay, so I was exposed to it at a young age. He and his husband, who is  _ also _ a lich, lots of liches in the family line-- they live in this mansion on the hill that my mom would take me to a ton as a kid. And uh, some close family friends of ours are a married lesbian couple. So like, I guess I’ve always known what it means? So I’m sorry for laughing at you,” She said. “But yeah, I’ve known I liked girls since middle school, but everyone finds out at a different time, so it’s no-- it’s no rush or anything.”

The cogs in Fitzroy’s head were turning. 

“Rainer, forgive me for thinking so, but I always thought you and Buckminster were kind of, uh, y’know,” Fitzroy said, looking for the word. “Mutually attracted?”

“Oh,  _ Bucky _ ? No, no. He’s uh. He’s actually gay, as well,” Rainer said. Fitz could hear in her voice that she was smiling. “There’s an old saying that ‘birds of a feather flock together,’ and like. The gays just stick together. It’s not that weird.” She paused a second. Fitzroy couldn’t really collect his thoughts.

“To be honest, Fitz, we always kinda thought _you_ were gay too.”

Oh boy. As if he needed more things to think about.

“I need to-- I have a bit of reading to do, it seems,” Fitzroy stuttered out. “This has been enlightening, Rainer, and I wanted to thank you for being so honest and open with me. My apologies for the misunderstanding.”

“No problem, Fitzy. Call if you need anything, okay? I’m always here to chat. I miss ya, bud.”

“Yep, uh-huh, miss you too,” Fitzroy said, completely absentminded.

Argo, the next room over, took another sip of his morning whiskey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little happier, and with good reason. Happy Passover, and happy Easter too to those who celebrate!  
> -M


	8. Voices in My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitzroy needs to learn to keep his hands out of things that aren't his business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, no new chapter today (4/14.) My favorite professor just stepped down and I realized I won't get to see her again. While this doesn't seem like a big deal, it's rocking me a little harder than I expected.
> 
> Additionally, for whatever reason I'm feeling really pressured to write this lately. Like it stopped being just a fun thing and now feels like a responsibility? So I might chill out on the updates. Sorry, loves  
> -M

Fitzroy hated lying. If he needed to stretch the truth, sure, he would, but full-fledged lies? He already had so  _ many _ to keep track of. Telling any more, for any stupid reason, was not something he especially desired to do. So, instead of coming up with some convoluted lie, he figured he would need to be secretive.

He couldn’t leave the dorm, which was a massive shame. The library had such an extensive database, and if he needed to learn about something, it was the obvious choice of a place to turn to. But, alas, that wasn’t really an option. And, as obvious as it was, his own books did not delve into variations of sexuality. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be in this predicament to begin with. 

So that left him one option. There was only one other person in the dorm who read recreationally, and he was currently zoned out in the bathroom. So Fitzroy had to be quiet on this one.

He made his way into the Firbolg’s and Argo’s room quietly, careful not to disturb the peace. The Firbolg was still dozing on Argo’s bed, sound asleep in a heavy hibernation. Fitzroy smiled, kind of bittersweet. He missed Bud, even if he knew it was probably good for his sanity that he was asleep during all of this. He wasn’t meant to be cooped up inside this long. It just wasn’t right.

Argo kept his things pretty well organized. He was one of those storage bin type people, everything tucked neatly in its own space. That simultaneously made Fitzroy’s current objective both easier and harder, for different reasons.

It was easier in that the whole thing would be a lot quicker to get done with. It was harder in that he would have to be a lot more careful if he didn’t want to get caught.

And like. He could ask Argo, surely. But with the state he was in right now? Fitzroy would rather not bother him. It wasn’t like he couldn’t do this himself.

So, he pulled out the storage bin labeled “books” and began filing through them.

The first thing he saw almost made him gasp out loud.

_ “A Dummy’s Guide to Barbarians.” “Wild Soul Barbarians.” “Path of the Wild Soul.” “Half-Elves and You.” “Half-Elves - Everything You Need to Know.” _ Fitzroy’s stomach dropped.

He was being researched. Argo was snooping on him, trying to find-- Gods  _ know _ what on him. The fact that Argo knew his father’s name, that he could possibly know his heritage, his--

Yes, Fitzroy was half elf. But half elf and half what?

He pushed the books away, under the bed, and slowly backed away. His back hit the stone wall on the Firbolg’s side of the room, the air being taken from his lungs.

He’d just been hit with the realization, once again, that he could not trust Argonaut Keene. The man who snuck out at night, the man who researched him, the man who knew his father’s name and who knows what else about him. He couldn’t catch on. Not when Fitzroy had spent his whole  _ life _ distancing himself from his past. From his dad.

No. The whole sexuality-crisis could wait. Suddenly, Fitzroy didn’t feel like reading.

“You okay out there, Fitz?” Argo asked. He’d made his way to the bathroom doorframe, glass still in hand. “I heard you sighin’ up an awful storm.”

“I’m fine,  _ Argo, _ ” Fitzroy said. He moved away from the wall and briskly into his bedroom. 

Argo stood there, contemplative. Huh. Fitz really had found a way to use his own  _ name _ as an insult. “You don’t sound fine,” Argo said. He made his way towards Fitz’s bedroom, only to be met with a door shut in his face.

What had changed?

-

_ Rainer, _ Fitzroy wrote, his handwriting much shakier than before.  
_ I’m sorry to correspond so soon, but it seems to me that my roommate may perhaps be stalking me. _

Rainer was sitting on her bed, in her room for one. She, being a villain always, had always had her own room, and frankly, that almost made her more bored than ever. Her notebook was open next to her as she flipped through magazines, looking for really anything of entertainment. Unfortunately, her mag subscriptions had gotten a little bleak since this whole white fuzz thing, and apparently it had been trickling down the whole sword coast. She wondered if reading all this (kind of depressing) news was good for her, but she turned the page anyway.

When her notebook pinged, she looked over in kind of surprise. She wasn’t expecting Fitzroy to message her back so soon. Her eyes met the shaky handwriting and scrawled message, complete with no signature, and frowned. Huh. How very unlike Fitz.

_ RMB: What, the big guy? _

_ FM: No, I’m afraid he’s been rendered incapacitated, it being hibernation season. So that just means it's me and Argo, then. Things had been fine, but I found a couple of books under his bed all in specifics to me-- class stuff, race stuff. And it wasn’t as if there was anything on the Firbolg, Rainer, that’s what makes it all so strange. He didn’t even know he hibernated, and while I suppose it is good to keep tabs on the world, it seems strange. _

Rainer read the words slowly, trying to really understand what was going on here. So. Twenty minutes after finding out that he could possibly like boys, Fitzroy arrives with news of Argo’s interest in him. Well. It wasn’t that surprising, if she was honest. Argo was always one to ask him relatively private questions, she’d noticed, and it’s not like he’d done it to anyone else.

Huh. So now came the question of how to respond.

She had to handle this delicately. To “out” Argo wasn’t really on her agenda, as frankly, that was a rather shitty thing to do. So she’d just have to be vague then, she supposed.

Fitzroy, meanwhile, was literally biting his nails. It was a gross habit he’d picked up a while back, but when he was nervous, it was really rather hard to focus on any one thing. If Argo had been trying to kill him, he’d had ample opportunity. So why not then? Why not when he’d gladly drank an unnamed potion, why not when they’d shared a bed that very morning?

_ The poison was in the sandwiches, _ Higglemis’s words echoed through his head. Oh, god. Was it a slow killing poison that Argo had used on him? Maybe it was in potion number 3, that neither of them had drank from. Was there a chance it was all some sick and twisted game?

Before Fitzroy’s thoughts got too wild, he received a response from Rainer.

_ RMB: Fitzroy, I can feel you panicking _ .

_ FM: How astute. _

_ RMB: Relax. He probably just wants to know more about you. I mean, come on. What have you been up to the past few days? I’m guessing avoiding him. _

Fitzroy grumbled. She knew him too well. But, he did have the opportunity to prove her wrong.

_ FM: falsehood! We spent the night together last night. He did seem rather off-kilter this morning, however. Perhaps his scheme to kill me fell through. _

Rainer rolled her eyes as that text came in. God, he was so thick, it was killing her.

_ RMB: Fitz, he probably just got uncomfortable. That’s a closeness you probably don’t show often, and it likely threw him off. Chill out, okay? I highly doubt your roommate is ‘researching’ you. _

Fitzroy went to bite his nails again, but realized they were too short. He concentrated for a second, growing them back to their original length. He bit at them again.

_FM: Fine. If you insist. I am thoroughly creeped out, however, and I highly doubt you are right in this._ _Should I address it with him?_

Rainer flipped back, reading through their previous texts. Just to check something.

_ RMB: And let him know you were snooping through his stuff? Sounds like a bad plan. Just act like nothing happened, Fitzroy. lmk when there’s more developments. see ya later, nerd _

Fitzroy closed the notebook with a huff. That whole conversation offered little insight. And while she’d said not to press into it…

He made his way out of his room to find Argo sitting against the bed, his copy of  _ Larry the Lime  _ propped open. He seemed to have switched the whiskey for a mug of coffee, so at least he seemed a little more relaxed. Hopefully he didn’t realize Fitzroy was on to him. If he’d delved through the books, surely--

“Mornin’ Fitz,” Argo said, looking up from the pages.

“It’s nearing 3 PM, Argo,” Fitzroy said, looking over at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Eh. Migh’as well be morning,” Argo said. His eyes moved back down to the page.

“Say, Argo,” Fitzroy said, sitting down across from him. “Do you have any interesting reads? Any  _ rad _ books you’d recommend or that I should know about?” He stared at Argo intently.

“I’ve uh. I’ve got a few old copies of Larry the Lime, I guess. Anythin’ you’ve got in mind?”

Ah. So now the question was how to question him further without letting him know what had been going on then, yes?

“Hm, yes. I’ve been looking to ah, extend my knowledge now that school isn’t in session, and… I, was wondering. If you. Had anything that could help?” He looked at Argo expectantly. Argo narrowed his eyes.

“Don’tcha have textbooks fer that?”

“Ah, yes, well you see I-- I rented them,” Fitzroy said. A lie. 

“Doesn’t yer family have money though? Why would you rent?”

“Well, Argo, just because we have the liquid assets doesn’t mean we cannot be fiscally responsible,” Fitzroy said. Oh, boy. This was becoming painful. He really didn’t love lying, he really didn’t.

“Oookay,” Argo said, drawing out the O. He turned then, pulling out a bin that said  _ Books. _ And what was funny, what was really a hoot, was that the books he’d just seen were gone. All of them.

“Feel free to look through these. Some of them are from the library though, so I’ll be needin’ em back,” he said. 

“Of course,” Fitzroy said. He pulled out almost all of the books before realizing that no, in fact, what he had realized just a moment ago was indeed true. The books were gone.

What he did find, though, was a novel with a fancy cursive font on the cover.  _ Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. _ Well. At least he could pretend to be interested, yes? Now that he’s spun a web of lies, the best thing to do was get out of it.

He grabbed that, and some other book on fishing. Sure, why not. Argo looked at him, curiosity in his eyes.

“Any reason you went for those two? Or did you not find what you were looking for?”

Oh. 

_ Oh. _

So Argo was onto him then, after all.

“Nope, this is exactly what I needed. An interesting read on fishing and…” he looked over the novel, unsure of exactly what it had in it. It was just a pretty cover. “A light read.”

Argo chuckled. “Sure, alright. Sit an’ read with me, then, if you’d be so keen.”

Fitzroy opened the novel, looking over at Argo. “Was that an effing pun?”   
“You’re really going to need to learn how to swear, Fitz, it’s getting miserable,” Argo said, reopening his book.

Y’see, when Argo got back to his room, after Fitz had been all suspicious, he noticed his book bin was pulled out of place, the books not in the order he’d left them.

To avoid suspicion, he covered it up. Of course he did.

But now, his other of two secrets was sitting in Fitzroy’s hands, a multi-racial queer love story that he’d annotated to hell and back.

Was it better he find out this way?

Argo wasn’t sure. But he’d rather Fitzroy find out now than never, and this way he could at least avoid telling him, right?

(One thing he forgot to take into account: When it came to social cues, both real and in books, Fitzroy was an absolute  _ buffoon _ .)

About two hours later, Rainer heard a ding from her notebook of farspeech. She put down her magazine and began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh, a little longer one! I hope you guys enjoy. Stay tuned for more!
> 
> (also there's another new fic in the tag called Bloom and it's so ? ?? good????? I'm screaming go read it)  
> -M


	9. The Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitzroy and Argo sit in silence. It isn't good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Minor spoilers for Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.)) I'm talking minor, minor vague things though, nothing specific because spoiling?? not a vibe

The first thing that struck Fitzroy about the book,  _ Aristotle and Dante, _ was the extreme amounts of highlights and comments in the margins. While the front cover and spine seemed relatively well-kept, the interior of the book was just spilling over content. 

When he started, Fitzroy had to admit he wasn’t that interested in the book. He really just wanted Argo off his back, and when he’d asked Fitzroy to sit with him and read, it was very suspicious of him to get up and leave anyway. And if his options were this novel with a pretty cover or a guidebook about fishing? The choice was pretty darn obvious, if Fitzroy did say so himself.

So, he cracked open the book, and was met with the blue highlighter.

In the front cover sat Argo’s name, written in his handwriting. It was neater than usual, like he was really trying. There were tallies under it-- twelve of them. Fitzroy looked over at Argo. His head was in the Larry the Lime book. Fitzroy went back to reading.

The book started slow. Ari, the narrator, was very irritated with everything. Although, if he was honest, Fitzroy drew parallels to his own mother and Ari’s father. Neither really talked all that much. That said, if he had someone like Ari’s ma-- talkative, kind, generous-- maybe things growing up would’ve been easier. 

The book continued. Ari met a boy, Dante. They hit it off swimmingly. Things were good.

Argo’s notes in the margins started picking up when Dante was introduced. Every mention of pools, swimming, and water were highlighted in blue. Birds were in green. Certain things Dante would say were yellow.

Fitzroy looked over at him once more. He caught Argo’s eyes. Argo had been staring.

“Everything alright?” Fitzroy said. Argo shrugged. He looked back down at his book. Fitz kept looking, studying him. He wondered, briefly, if Argo was capable of blushing.

The book continued, everything going pretty well. There was one point where things got a little rocky, and while that sucked, things got back on track for Ari. 

One thing Fitz had noticed was that, during his rough patches, Ari kept a notebook filled with all his deepest insecurities-- and, what’s more, he said it made him feel better. Maybe Fitz would have to pick that up. Boredom was setting in, and anything to do was rapidly becoming better than  _ nothing _ to do.

He kept reading. 

One thing piqued his interest-- in the Letters segment, the one character, Dante, had said something about practicing kissing. It was weird. Argo’s highlights were even more during this segment, noting the imagery in the words used. 

Dante mentioned pot. 

Dante mentioned kissing boys.

Interesting. None of these things had really concerned him before.

“Well, Argo, this has been lovely, but I believe I’ve had my fill of reading for the day,” Fitzroy said. He stood up, stretching his arms until he heard a small  _ pop _ in his shoulders. “I’m going to write to Rainer, and maybe make some coffee. Would you like any?”

One thing Fitzroy did know about covering a lie was that the best thing to do was remain nonchalant, pretend nothing was happening, and change the subject subtly if need be. By bringing up other things, he was deferring the attention from his suspicious-ness. At least, that’s what his mother had insisted.

“Nah, I’m not a coffee guy,” Argo said. “Did you, uh. What did you think of the book? So far, I mean.”

From Argo’s perspective, there was no conceivable way Fitzroy was able to get through this book without realizing with absolute certainty that he, Argonaut Keene, was about as gay as they come.

He didn’t even notice Fitzroy had seen his barbarian books. That was the thing. It was just some sort of misunderstanding. Neither of them knew this, and each was working to hide a secret they believed was on the cusp of being discovered.

“Ah, yes,” Fitzroy said. “I liked Ari’s mother.”

“Well, she is lovely,” Argo said. Shit. If that’s all Fitzroy had to say, he must be uncomfortable with it. Maybe he wanted to avoid talking about it. Maybe he was embarrassed.

Fitzroy left the room after that. Argo put his book down with a sigh. He turned to the Firbolg, watching him as he snored. What he wouldn’t do right then to have a third person here, even if just to lighten the mood. The tension was too thick, and Argo was suffocating under the pressure of it.

Fitzroy, as soon as he shut his bedroom door behind him, jumped for his notebook.

_ FM: Rainer, my friend, _ _   
_ _ I do believe I want to try ‘pot’. Argo let me borrow a book and this experience seemed rather fun. While I know this is a rulebreaker, I wanted to try it. Also, kissing.  _

Rainer, upon receiving this, was… Huh.

Huh.

She didn’t really know how to react to this one.

_RMB:_ _Are you trying to say you’re high right now? I literally cannot picture that fitz lmao it’s not really your MO_

_ FM: No, no, you misunderstand me. If something is described in a book with such enthusiasm, I do believe I should at least attempt this. _

He thought about elaborating on the kissing thing. Hm. Should he? He didn’t want to make his friend uncomfortable. He couldn’t  _ wait _ to get out of this quarantine. He could be like Dante, and kiss people for fun, for experimentation’s sake. It was all like a science experiment-- to see what worked, what didn’t. He wouldn’t be able to find anything out until then, surely. For now, as far as the world was concerned, he was meant to sulk, text Rainer, and keep avoiding Argo Keene. Those were his three objectives.

One of those three objectives failed immediately. Rainer didn’t text him back.

Fitzroy groaned into his pillow. 

The rest of the day ended rather uneventfully. Argo fell asleep at his book, and woke up the next morning on the floor. He hated to say it, but the bathtub was better.

The breakfast knock came right on time, and Argo got up slowly, stretching his back. When he opened the door, however, along with the three plates of food sat a letter, sealed in a fancy envelope. A return letter, addressed to Argo Keene, from one Dendra Maplecourt.

Argo put the letter in a pocket inside his shirt. Best not to let Fitzroy find out about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hm midnight chapter?
> 
> I had a lengthy conversation with a buddy of mine abt taz g and it re-inspired me to write. gotta love my crackpot theories spilling into my fanfic huh?
> 
> Totally inspired by my new favorite book lol. Hope yall liked it :)


	10. A Two-Player Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Argo gets a letter. Fitzroy gets a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for detailed drug use.

The letter… The letter wasn’t what Argo was expecting. Dindra had described her son’s passion for hot mint gum, which sure, but she seemed… She didn’t seem at all like Fitzroy described. And she spoke of Fitzroy as if he was an entirely different person-- without friends, out of place at the snobby Knight school, and here on a scholarship provided by an anonymous benefactor? It just didn’t make  _ sense _ with the picture Fitzroy painted of himself.

“What are you reading, Argo?” Fitzroy asked, pushing past Argo to get his breakfast. Argo hastily put the letter back in his shirt, going back to his food.

“It’s a, uh. It’s a letter, y’know, that’s all. Nothing important.”

This piqued Fitzroy’s interest. “Nothing important, you say?” His recent interest in both kissing and ganja had made everything, in his mind, relate back to those two things.

“Nah. Taxes and the like,” Argo said. He took another bite of his food. “Me ma’s old boat just sold. I got a chunk of the change.” (This was an easy lie to tell. Then again, to Argo, most lies were.)

Fitzroy smiled. “Well, what will you spend it on, Argo?”

“Just save it, that’s all. I want to be like you, Fitzroy, save up a little change and afford a, what did you say, spacious mansion where you sometimes won’t even see each other. That sounds lovely, don’t it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Fitzroy said. His smile wavered, just for a second. Long enough for Argo to notice.

There was a knock at the window. Fitzroy leaped at the distraction, making his way quickly past the Firbolg to the room’s curtain-less window. It was a familiar knock-- a little Shave and a Haircut diddy. 

Outside stood a bone skeleton. His face scrunched up.

“Snippers,” Fitzroy called. The small, celestial crab appeared, odd frothing/bubbling sounds appearing from its mouth. Huh, Argo thought, it’s been a while since he’d seen the crab.

Snippers moved to the window, trying to open it. He did not have opposable thumbs. 

Fitzroy sighed, opening the window and backing up. The skeletal squirrel did a little dance. Ew. Disgusting. It made Fitzroy want to cry, not from the beauty, but at the sheer disregard for the laws of life and death the universe has established. 

The squirrel handed Snippers an envelope, looking up for some kind of prize for his work. Fitzroy turned back to Argo.

“Do you have anything I could give him? I’ve eaten my sweet crepes already.”

“Uh,” Argo said, leafing through his pockets. 

He only had-- The letter.

Could he trust Rainer not to tell Fitzroy, and did he really need someone else to know this that badly?

No. This was Chain work. Plus, she and Fitz were too close. She’d confront him, he’d ask her how she found out, and it would be traced back to him. Best to not.

Argo did, however, pull out one of the three pieces of hot mint gum Dindra had attached. He tossed it to Snippers, who handed it out to the squirrel. 

It nodded and ran away, happy with the barter.

“Say, is that-- is that the smell of hot-hot mint gum?” Fitzroy asked, a grin spreading over his face. Argo pulled the other two pieces out, passing one to Fitzroy.

“Yeah, it came with my tax report, which was really weird,” Argo lied. “It’s a shame the Firbolg can’t join us in havin’ some, but at least Rainer can enjoy.”

“Yes, I do believe she will be pleased. Does she like spicy?” Fitzroy said, opening the gum. He popped it in his mouth with a smile.

“Dunno. What letter did’ya get?” Argo asked. He opened his stick of hot mint, holding it to his mouth. He was a little nervous, weirdly enough.

“Let’s see, shall we?” Fitzroy said, opening the small envelope. 

Instantly, the room was filled with a... perfume, of sorts, he had not previously whaffed.

Huh.

The letter attached was only a couple words long; written in Rainer’s sloped writing:

_ I can’t get you that kissing, Fitz, but the other thing? I gotcha _ _   
_ _ \- RMB  
_ _ PS - Attached is a one-hitter. Use at discretion. Stay safe, fitzy _

“God, Fitz, is that weed?” Argo said. His nose was absolutely ambushed with the smell. 

“I suppose it is!” Fitzroy said, a smile on his face. “We can be like Dante and Aristotle!”

Argo paused, licked his lips, and stared blankly at Fitzroy. “You. You didn’t finish that book, did you.”

“No,” Fitzroy said, “not yet. I kind of went to sleep early last night, that’s all. Why?”

“No reason,” Argo said. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. Fuck, Fitzroy had pretty eyes and was unknowingly talking about kissing him. Cool.  _ Great. _

“Listen, Argo,” Fitzroy said. “Trust me! We’re already stuck in here for Gods know how long, we might as well kill some time. And if not now, when? Honestly, the way I figure, life is short. How long do genasi live, anyway?”   


“Eh, around 75 if there’s no disease or violence,” Argo said with a shrug.

“Wow, see? That’s less than half of mine. Less than half! You’ve got to  _ live _ , Argo,” Fitzroy said. 

Oh, damn. Really? Less than half of Fitzroy’s life? Argo’s stomach sank at that. Yikes. Big yikes! Damn. Stupid half-elves. Why did they have to live so long?

So weed, huh.

Well, apparently Argo had a weakness for boys with soft eyes and telling smiles, because he found himself that night, as the sun set, sitting across from Fitzroy at Fitz’s open window, a slight breeze pulling through those curls of his.

He was holding a tiny Fantasy Zip-Loc baggie, a zippo, and a strange ceramic thing made to look like a cigarette. Argo wasn’t so sure about this.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Fitzroy chuckled, looking over the supplies he’d gathered. “Do I just put it in there?”

“I don’t know what ‘yer askin’ me for,” Argo said. “I’m more of a drinkin’ guy.”

“Alright then, guess I’ll just…” Fitzroy said, stuffing the cigarette with the contents of the bag. He screwed the top on, just sort of staring at it for a second.

Argo sighed. Fitzroy was nervous, wasn’t he? God, Argo wished he didn’t feel sympathetic right now. What a dumb situation to find himself in.

“Do ya want me to try an’ go first?” Argo said. Fitzroy’s shoulders lowered at that, and he let out the faintest breath.

“I’d actually really love that.”

Argo nodded, taking the piece from Fitzroy. It was rather small, a little shorter than his pointer finger. There’s no way this little thing could get them…  _ high,  _ was there?

He lit the lighter and took a drag.

Almost instantly, he pulled away coughing.

“Wh-- Argo, are you alright?” Fitzroy said. Argo shook his head, looking around suddenly. Water. He needed water. 

He coughed a few more times, kind of looking through Fitzroy’s stuff, before finding a glass of water on the bedside table. He downed it before he could even think twice, breathing heavily.

They both stood there for a moment, looking over at each other in some strange mix of fear and surprise.

“Burns yer throat,” Argo said, his chest still tight. The coughing died the instant he swallowed some water, though, so… it was an easy fix, at least. “Are ya-- are ya still gonna try?”

“Well, yeah, I’m not a p-- not a  _ pussy, _ ” Fitzroy said, stumbling over the word. “Boy, that cursing sure doesn’t get any easier.”

“Now you can really say you’re a villain though. Cursing, smokin’ devil’s lettuce. Y’know, all good villain stuff.” Fitzroy shrugged.

He took the one-hitter between his pointer and middle finger, as if it were some fancy French cigar. He held the lighter up to it, but didn’t light it. He took a second, looking over at Argo. Yeah. Don’t think. This’ll be fun, remember?

One hit later and Fitzroy was coughing just as much as Argo, if not more. He took the water glass from Argo’s hand, putting the one-hitter on his nightstand, and went straight to the bathroom sink. He filled it up, drinking it almost immediately.

Argo followed behind, eyes wide.

“Hachi machi,” Fitzroy muttered. His face was scrunched up. “That does  _ not _ go down smooth.”

“You alright, Fitz?” Argo said. He didn’t want to burst in on him in the bathroom, even if he was just getting a drink. Privacy was scarce when you only had three rooms to exist in. They had to make the best of it.

“Yes, fine, that was just… Wow, people do that? Like, for fun?” He said. 

“I think it’s what’s after the smoking is what people enjoy,” Argo said. 

Fitzroy filled the water glass once more and left the bathroom, leaning on the doorframe. “We still have a few more hits to take. Y’see, I’m starting to understand why they’re called  _ hits _ .”

“One or two more, yeah,” Argo said. He gestured for Fitzroy to follow him and picked up the one-hitter from the table. “You in for it?”

“I don’t want to suffer and  _ not _ reap the rewards, if that’s what you’re asking,” Fitzroy said. “Here, I’ll go first this time.” He took the hitter from Argo’s fingertips, and Argo froze for a second. 

Just a second.

Fitzroy lit the one-hitter, breathing in a deeper drag. This one didn’t hurt nearly as much. It was almost like training; certain things that hurt at first wore off with use, like wearing in a new blade or learning the ropes of a new spell. God, if the Deane of his old school could see him now…

Argo took his second hit with a labored breath, but much smoother than the first one. He took a big gulp of the water. His tongue felt like sandpaper.

“I think that’s enough for now,” Fitzroy said, emptying the contents of the cigerette into the baggie once more. He looked at the stuff in his hand, pausing. “We need to hide this.”

“Hm. We could put it behind the Gary? That way he won’t find it,” Argo said. Fitzroy mulled it over.

“No, we’d have to sneak up on him, and I don’t-- hmm, don’t feel like doing… that.” 

Huh, well that’s weird. Time isn’t moving right.

“Are you--” Fitzroy started, looking himself over. “I’m-- Argo, I’m high!” He laughed at the whole goddamn thing. He was high! He, Fitzroy. Preposterous.

There was something about the way Fitzroy said his name that Argo really loved. He didn’t say it the way Argo did, flipping the ‘r’ and leaning into the G. He didn’t say it like his ma, who only ever really called him Argonaut. He made the AR sound like one word, and the GO sounds like another. He leaned into the first syllable in such a way that made it sound like his name, his own name, was some kind of gift.

“I don’t even think you’re listening, Argo,” Fitzroy said. Ah, there it was again. AR-go. He said it with such care, such gentleness. This man had saved his  _ life. _

“You s-- whoo, boy, this is strong. Hot damn,” Argo muttered. He backed away from the window, sitting slowly on Fitzroy’s bed. “At the hospital. You saved me’ life, y’know.”

Fitzroy paused at the window. He was still holding a ziploc filled with good kush, his gold-rimmed glasses were balanced precariously on his nose, and the setting sun lit his curls up like a halo. Argo flopped backwards on the bed.  _ Fuck. _

“Argo,” Fitzroy said. If he kept saying his name like that, Argo thought he just might die.

There was a pretty heavy pause, then, just for a second. Fitzroy put the weed in the drawer of the bedside table. Argo followed his hands with his eyes.

“How did you get Rainer to bring us pot anyways? That’s not, uh, um…” He trailed off. “I don’t-- I don’t know where I was going with that.” 

He felt a  _ flop _ next to him as Fitzroy joined him on the bed. Argo’s cheeks got hot for a minute.

“I asked her. I liked the book you let me borrow. It made me think a lot,” Fitzroy said. He slid his glasses off, tossing them off the bed haphazardly. “About pot. And kissing.”

“Kissin?” Argo said. Ah, shit. Hot diggity shit.

“Yeah. Never tried it before. Dante seemed to like it. Y’know, I feel like I’m like him sometimes,” Fitzroy said. He turned to face Argo, a dopey smile on his face. “The scene in the park, with the birds. I also… like birds,” he said.  “You a birdwatcher?” Argo asked. It was like the words fell out of his mouth without him asking them to.

“Well, no, not really. I like… cardinals. And blue jays. The bright ones, the colorful guys. And uh… Orioles. I like orioles too,” Fitzroy said. He giggled, for a second, and just the sound of his laugh absolutely  _ sent  _ Argo.

Argo started cackling then, all curled up in the bed and listening to Fitzroy talk about birds. There was something so  _ funny _ about it, the way they just could sit here and not think so much. They could… talk about birds. And there were no problems, no virus, no tensions to worry about. They could just. Exist.

“Wait, wait,” Fitzroy said, sitting up. He folded his legs criss-cross applesauce, smiling over at Argo. Argo did the same, facing him from the other side of the bed. “Watch this,” Fitzroy said.

He moved one of his hands in front of his face, and with that single motion, his hair changed color.

It was a bright blue, the color of a blue jay, and he grinned a mega-watt grin. 

“Wh-- How did you--” Argo started, and Fitzroy started giggling again. It was enough to make Argo not care, assuming it was some sort of cantrip or something.

Fitz snapped his fingers, and his fingernails lit up a bright red, the color of cardinals. They were suddenly long, like acrylics. And with a wink, his eyes turned a glaring orange. Orioles.

Argo couldn’t stop laughing now. There wasn’t really anything funny about it, but at the same time,  _ it was so funny. _

“I’m magic, baby!” Fitzroy said. He clapped his hands, and all of the changes reverted to the state that most knew as  _ Fitzroy-- _ the brunette curls, the brown eyes, the short and bitten nails.

Argo took a deep breath, his giggle-fit subsiding, and he just took a second to look at Fitzroy. The real Fitzroy, as he truly was. And what he was was  _ stunning.  _

Fitzroy had stopped similarly, noticing the fond look on Argo’s face. No one had ever really looked at him like that before. His eyes had gone all soft, his smile was small and with a certain degree of care. Argo went to say something, stopped, and seemed to think better of it. Fitzroy tilted his head.

“What’s bothering you, Argonaut Keene?” Fitz said. Argo’s heart hammered in his chest.

“Yer just so…  _ breathtaking, _ ” He muttered, his eyes floating across Fitzroy’s face. 

He didn’t even take a second to react. It was all happening at once. It was like a magnet was drawing him, pulling him in towards Argo. His hands fell clumsily at Argo’s jaw, and before Fitz even knew it, he was kissing him.

Their foreheads pressed flush together, and his heart was beating as fast as a mouse’s. Argo’s lips were pressed firmly to his.

For the first time in his life, Argo Keene was  _ being _ kissed, as opposed to just doing the kissing. And, for the first time in Fitzroy’s, he was kissing someone.

Argo pulled away, breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! Sorry for disappearing, I got a little uninspired. The episodes weren't rlly giving me maplekeene inspiration? But DANG this most recent one really did it for me. So, anyway, I hoped you liked this and are happy to finally get your kiss scene you've waited so long for. Enjoy!  
> \- M


	11. A Loser, Geek, or Whatever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

“Nope,” Argo said, clumsily climbing from the bed. “Nuh-uh.”

Fitzroy let out a quiet groan at the loss of contact, and that cemented Argo’s decision further.

“Y’ want attention, and kisses, I get that, but y’ can’t just use me for those. I’m-- I’m not gonna allow it,” Argo said. He was backing away.

“Argo,” Fitzroy whined, falling onto the bed. “Come baaack.”

“Yer’ very high,” Argo commented, as if he was not. “Just, ah. Get some sleep ‘er somethin.”

“I won’t do it again, promise, just…” Fitzroy muttered out. He flopped onto his back, his eyes up at the ceiling. “Just don’t leave me alone.”

Argo froze in the doorway, turning back to face him. Ah, fuck. Well? Now he couldn’t, could he?

He made his way over, tentatively sitting near the top of the bed. He wasn’t facing Fitzroy, not yet. He couldn’t let himself do this-- be used like this again. He couldn’t do it. No way. But here was his _friend_ , his roommate, needing company. And it’s not like he could seek it from anyone else at the moment. So, Argo sat.

“D’ ya wanna tell me what that was all about?” Argo said, still adamant not to look at him.

“You make me feel weird,” Fitzroy muttered, running a hand down his face.

“OK,” Argo said. He was a little confused, and still more than a little high. “And?”

“And you complimented me, and you smell like sandalwood,” Fitzroy continued. Argo chuckled. He wasn’t really expecting that one. “I like spending time with you, and I’ve decided I like kissing you.” 

Fitz had said it so matter-of-fact, as if it was such an easy thing to say. Argo’s lip curled in contempt at the thought of a friends-with-benefits situation. No, he couldn’t do that. He sincerely hoped that wasn’t what Fitzroy was asking.

“Why do you have books on me?” Fitzroy asked. Slowly, Argo’s eyes widened.

“Ah, um, what?” Argo said. Shit. How did he-- “Were you going through my stuff?”

“I didn’t mean to intrude, I wanted to find a book on uh, _lesbians_ to learn things. I like learning things, and Rainer-- uh, told me to learn about that,” he said. Fitzroy sat up a little, moving his back to rest against the footboard of the bed. “But instead I found a bunch of books on _me._ My race and stuff. Is that, like… Are you stalking me? Are you like, planning to kill me or something? Because that’d be whack, and I would very much like to not die,” he said. He gave a little nod, as if to prove his point. 

Argo bit his lip. 

“Do you trust me, Fitz?” Argo asked. 

Fitzroy gave a shrug. “Dunno, fellow.”

Argo leaned against the headboard of the bed, his eyes running over Fitzroy. His glasses had been since discarded, and the red of his sweater-vest stood out against his tawny skin. Fitzroy didn’t trust him. Then again. Why should he?

“I can’t tell you. I wish I could, honestly Fitz, I wish I could,” Argo said. “But-- it’s the same thing that I’ve been sneaking out ‘fer. It’s the same thing. And I’m not aimin’ to harm you in any way. I just…” Argo trailed off. He heaved a sigh. “I know there’s more to you than ‘yer tellin’ me.”

“I--” Fitzroy started. He ran a hand down his face again, a look of contemplation crossing his face. “Argo, if you’re allowed to keep your secrets, I can only ask that I can keep mine.”

Argo paused.

“Alright, then,” he said. Argo pulled his legs up to himself, physically closing himself off. “I guess that’s that.”

Fitzroy sighed, slowly getting off the bed. He grabbed the bag from his bedside table, packing the one-hitter a little more. “Say. This whole, ‘we both have secrets we’ll take to the grave’ business is getting a little sobering, and frankly, I’d rather not be sober at the moment. Care to join me?”

Argo smiled, standing up. “Yeah, might as well. It’s not like we have much else to do.”

Fitzroy smiled. He knew, deep down, he himself wasn’t being honest about who he _was_. 

Argo knew he himself wasn’t being honest about the things he’d _done_. 

And yet, they could share this moment, with a stupid cigarette one hitter between the two of them. They could share each other’s presence, each other’s company. 

And sure, maybe the secrets would come out someday. Maybe one of them would get hurt, one of them would die, even. But that worry wasn’t shared at the moment.

What mattered was that, sure, there wasn’t a sheer honesty between the two of them, but there was a fragile trust.

Fitzroy took a deep breath of the pipe, leaning over to press his lips to Argo’s. A shotgun kiss.

Argo smiled. This could be enough.

Fitzroy awoke the next morning in his giant bed, his arms curled around Argo. The sound of the knock at the door, signifying breakfast, startled him. He pulled himself gently away from Argo’s sleeping form, sitting up slowly. The morning sun was seeping through the curtainless windows, just enough that it lit the room up a pale pink. It was pretty, in a way. 

He turned his gaze to Argo. He looked so peaceful asleep, like there was nothing troubling him, no lies between them, no secrets hidden. His hair was down, draping over his shoulders in a way that was so elegant. It was just _him._ Just his best friend, just a person that meant the world to him. It was nice to play in that space for a moment, not having to worry about much at all.

Fitzroy got up slowly, padding his way out to the other room in his sock-clad feet. He retrieved their dishes, setting them gently on the bedside table in his room. 

He felt a vibration in his pocket, and reached for it near instantly. His stone of farspeech was ringing. Fitz’s eyes darted to Argo, trying to be quiet. He took the stone out, making his way into the bathroom in hopes of not waking the sleeping man.

“Hello?” He said.

“Fitzy! Y’all don’t know how much we’ been missin’ you, kiddo,” the voice on the other line said. Fitzroy blinked slowly, recollection washing over him.

“Dad?”

Argo stirred quietly, the sound of Fitzroy’s voice waking him from his slumber. His eyes cracked open to find the bed empty, but a plate of his favorite foods on the bedside table. He leaned over to get it, and couldn’t help but hear Fitz’s half of the conversation.

“Yessir! Aw, Fitzy, we’ve been missin you something awful. Did’ya know my truckin’ business is doin’ better than ever in this pandemic? Apparently it’s harder to find drivers out there. But you know how it is, us Changelings need to find business somewhere,” his dad said. Fitzroy sighed. And, before he knew it, his old accent was slipping through.

“Yeah, that’s kinda how it’s been. Tell ma I love her, won’t’cha? That’s assumin’ she’s with ya. Not sure if she’s quarentinin’ or whatever. Say, have y’all been keeping safe?”

Argo blinked heavily. Wh-- Huh? That sounded nothing like the way Fitzroy spoke. He was always formal, always expressly using big words as a way of differentiating himself from others. This wasn’t… This wasn’t that. There was almost a Southern twang in his voice, almost as if an accent was taking over his usually crisp way of speaking.

“Sure thing, kiddo. She’s not stayin’ with me, she uh, decided she’d rather stay home. I get it, if I didn’t have to drive right now I sure wouldn’t. They keepin’ you holed up in the dorm?”

“Yeah,” Fitzroy said. “I’m missin’ the outside somethin’ awful. And y’know, our kind, we’re not really representin’ here. But it’s alright. One of m’ roommates is a Firbolg, he’s got his own fair share of only-man syndrome kickin’ in.”

His dad tutted on the other line, and Fitzroy rolled his eyes. Of course he’d find a way to make this about race. His dad would rattle on about this forever, and once he got started, it became difficult to get him to stop. “Y’know, y’ dont’ know who you can trust these days, ‘Roy. Ya gotta be careful.”

Fitzroy tugged on his ears, wincing at the nickname. “Dad, come on, we’ve talked bout this.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. Alls I’m sayin’ is that you can never bee to careful, kiddo. Friends close, enemies closer. Besides, it’s not like you’re keeping any secrets, right? Those are what really getcha into danger.” Fitzroy pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting a sigh.

“Right. Of course. Uh, well, if you’re done,” Fitzroy said. His regular, fancylad-type voice was returning, Argo noticed. “I best be on my way. Breakfast is served. Ciao, now. Bye.” 

Fitzroy hung up, a sigh escaping his lips. The only things his dad ever talked about were his business, his distrust of others, and the shitty way people treat Changelings. And then had the audacity to balk at Fitzroy for not embracing that part of himself. It was hypocritical at best, and just plain annoying at worst. Besides, it was his mother who taught him first that he was not to display his Changeling nature, that doing so could lead to people assuming he was deceptive and not to be trusted.

But by lying, he was making himself exactly that.

He walked back into the bedroom to find Argo sitting up in bed, a puzzled look on his face. Fitzroy smiled. “You fell asleep here, don’t you remember?”

“No, that’s not what’s…” Argo started, and eyed Fitzroy over. His hair was still sprawled gently over his shoulders in slight waves. “Have you been fakin’ an accent this whole time?”

Fitzroy paused. “Um,” he started, flailing around for some thought to grab onto, something that wasn’t _Ah, yes, you’ve caught me, huh?_ “Were you eavesdropping on me?”

“Well, yeah, didn’t really mean to. These walls’re just a tid bit thin, dontcha think? It’s not like I meant to,” Argo said. He stretched, his joints popping with morning sleepiness. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, it’s fine. I respect ‘yer boundaries and all.”

Fitzroy took a second to process that. It was… not what he was used to, really. Usually, when people found out he was faking to be of a higher status, or that he as a Changeling, he was met with ridicule and laughter. But Argo just rolled with it, respecting him.

Something fluttered in Fitzroy’s gut. It was like fear, but with a tint of excitement. Like a wildflower mix of seeds and feelings were blooming in his stomach.

Fitzroy sat on the bed, next to Argo, just watching him for a moment. Argo raised his eyebrows at the intensity of the gaze, but offered Fitz a smile. 

“Have you ever been in love, Argo?” Fitzroy said. Argo’s mouth opened slightly. He… he wasn’t expecting that.

“Uh, yeah, I have,” Argo said. He pulled a hairtie off of his wrist, pulling his hair into the high ponytail he always wore it in. “A while ago.”

Fitzroy nodded, his eyes drifting somewhere else. Argo tilted his head, looking at him. He wasn’t sure where this was going. Well, he knew a couple possibilities, but it was too soon to start truly leaning into them yet.

“Could you, uh,” Fitzroy said. “Would you mind-- Could you tell me about it?”  
“About love?” Argo said. He glanced down at his hands. “Well, uh. Hate to break it to you, Fitz, but I’m not really an expert in the field.”  
“Trust me, Argo, you’ve gotten me beaten for sure,” Fitzroy said. Argo messed for a moment with his hands in his lap, and looked back up at Fitzroy.

“Again, I was only in love once. But I’ve uh, been intimate quite a few times more than that. Y’know, bein’ on the sea, there’s not a lot to do, and some guys really dug the hair, so like. I did what I had to to uh, climb the ranks and stuff. And the main reason I even thought about doing that was Mariah. He was good lookin’, I was young, and we were both stupid. There’s not much to say.” He paused, looking Fitzroy over. “He was a Changeling, like you are.”

Fitzroy paused. He looked Argo over, his eyes stilling. “You knew?”

“Fitz, when we were high you turned your hair pink. Did you forget about that?” Argo smiled, offering him a smile. “I know what it’s like to be an outcast, Fitz. The Firbolg does too, we’re all kind of a cut apart from th’ rest. And frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“And as for past relationships, I’m gay, if you haven’t picked up on that one. But you did kiss me so I doubt that’s too much an’ issue,” Argo said with a chuckle. Fitzroy smiled.

“Of course not. Argo, I’m not shallow enough to care about your past, if you’re worried that’s why I’m asking. I’m just… curious. You’re just, you’re fascinating, Argo. I just want to get to know you. As much as I can.”Argo moved, pulling Fitzroy in for a third time, their lips crashing in the middle. It was awkward, it was a bad angle, and it was nothing like last night. That said, it was _wonderful._

* * *

Funnily enough, the cure for the virus came out the next day. The timing was flawless; it was just the right amount for Argo and Fitzroy to get their shit together, and not a day more. Everyone had to have a couple of temporary wards drawn on them, but from there they should be fine. Apparently, it had been some kind of breathing hex, a means of stopping enemy breath that somehow became contagious. Argo didn’t really understand it, but he was surely glad it was over.

He did have a moment of panic when they got out-- that whatever fragile thing he and Fitzroy were building would collapse like a Fantasy Drunk Jenga tower. He had another panic when Fitz had flug himself into Rainer’s arms, telling her how much he missed her. The panic subsided when he took Argo by the hand, pulling him into the hug with them.

He reintroduced Argo to Rainer as his boyfriend, and Argo felt his cheeks heat up. He got the feeling that would never get old. 

And when the Firbolg woke up, he wasn’t quite as surprised by the situation as Argo would’ve thought. He did ask why he had scrambled eggs in his mouth when he awakened, and Argo had had a laugh at that one.

They had a mission coming up, something about an apple and some centaurs. But Argo knew, at this point, whatever life threw his way he’d take it in stride. Nothing could compare to the challenges of weeks of quarantine, a near-death experience in a hospital via  _ chain demon _ , or finally getting Fitzroy to be his boyfriend.

Whatever life threw his way, he’d have his two best friends by his side. The fact that he was slowly falling in love with one of them didn’t matter-- they’d always have each other.

Argonaut Keene: CCO of Thundermen, LLC, boyfriend of Fitzroy Maplecourt, and  _ survivor _ of quarantine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINAL CHAPTER!!! We've made it, boys. In my state, quarantine ends tomorrow! I started this as a means of coping with the virus, and I'm ending it more confident, if anything. We've been through so much, and I really am echoing Argo's sentiment of being able to make it though anything at this point.
> 
> If you want to talk, message me on Tumblr at goldenholdencaulfield.tumblr.com !!!
> 
> Enjoy the summer, babes. I hope things are going well, and I hoped you enjoyed reading this.
> 
> Love always,  
> Molly


End file.
